Sophie's Choice
by Aki Hotaru 16
Summary: Sophie LaPadite is a 'lovely' French girl with a history of violence. After a brief stint with the Jew Hunter, she gets caught up in the world of the Basterds. Blood and carnidge surround her every day, and the worst part of it all is... she likes it.
1. The Strudel, the Bitch, & the Jew Hunter

Greetings fellow Basterd lovers!

This is my first fanfiction EVER and I'm glad people are enjoying it.

A lot of time and effort was placed into the creation of this story. So it would make me incredibly happy if I were to get reviews/constructive criticism. I do not speak French, but I'm learning German, so if you catch any errors, let me know.

I try to keep high-quality control over the story content, so every sentence you read has been thoroughly analyzed, and serves a purpose.

A few banners have already been made for this story, so if you want to check it out and see how I imagine Sophie, go ahead.

Just go to my profile page and you'll find the links.

**Disclaimer:** Characters and situations of Inglourious Basterds are the property of Quentin Tarantino.

~Sophie LaPapadite is of my own creation, and she would be livid should someone steal her.~

This story is for the enjoyment of fans, and not for profit. Please don't sue as I have no money.

And on that note,

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**The Strudel, the Bitch, and the Jew Hunter**

**Part Un**

* * *

It was a beautiful July afternoon in French dairy country. The sun was shining, the strudels had yet to set, and the Jews were hiding under the floorboards.

The day couldn't have been more perfect.

Leaning idly against the windowsill of her family's cottage, stood Sophie LaPadite. To anyone that did not know of her reputation, they would see a striking beauty. Silky ebony curls cascaded down her shoulders. With pale skin, rosy cheeks, pouty pink lips, and glossy hazel eyes, she resembled a doll more than a grown woman. Sophie was the kind of beauty American men were accustomed to seeing in pin-ups.

Had they only known of her reputation, they would have thought of her as anything but beautiful.

Sophie LaPadite was a force to be reckoned with.

She had just opened the glass window panes and set her most recent batch of apple strudels to cool by the window.

Who would have thought that "_La Connasse de la Vallée" _– {The Bitch of the Valley} enjoyed cooking? Most certainly none of the local boys who had bestowed the name on her!

Sophie in her twenty three years of life had grown fond of her nickname. It suited her well, and she in her own right, believed she deserved it. After being harassed and ostracized by the boys of the community for her heritage for over thirteen years, she had been pushed over the edge and would gladly show any man his place under her boot heel.

She smirked at the memory of her first outburst. It was on a beautiful summer day, much like this one, when she had snapped and forced a poor boy by the name of Gabriel Boulanger, to lick the cow shit off her shoes. Needless to say, hardly any of the locals bothered her again.

Unfortunately, within the last year of occupation by German forces, they had yet to learn their place. This had led to an evening in jail for "disrupting the peace", and the disappearances of two Nazi Officers in the last week.

Sophie's smirk turned to a frown at the memory, and whispered under her breath _"Brûlez dans l'enfer." _– {Burn in hell.} Subconsciously, she pulled up the collar of her blouse. With a shudder she tried to rid herself of the memory.

Since her sudden growth spurt a few years ago, Sophie had made a habit of covering up her body as much as possible. Looking down, she examined her breasts with a grimace. If given the means, she would rid herself of her chest in a heartbeat. It only served as a distraction for boys and a hindrance for her work.

That day she was clothed in an imperfect off-white blouse, the sleeve having received a nasty tear at the cuff the previous week. Her legs were covered by a less-than-fashionable heavy grey skirt. Standing a decent five foot seven, Sophie towered over the better part of women in the area. Among her nicknames, she'd once heard an elderly woman make mention of her as a giant. Had Sophie really cared what the old sod had thought of her, she would have forced her to polish Sophie's boots with her tongue.

Smirking fondly, her gaze drifted to her feet. The only object Sophie found desirable amongst her wardrobe, were her black leather Gestapo boots. She had bartered them off a desperate Jewish cobbler in Nancy a few months ago. Apparently an S.S. Officer had come into the shop, demanding that his outgrown shoes be mended. Isaac, the cobbler, was unable to make the alterations and had ended up fitting him a brand new pair free of charge.

Luckily, at the time, the Officer was unaware of Isaac's last name being Lipschitz.

To the cobbler's dismay, a week later the Officer was informed of his Judaic history by a concerned townsperson. A Jew hunt was immediately issued.

Sophie had encountered Isaac in a back-alley in Nancy. He'd been trying to rid himself of his supplies to raise enough money to leave the country. The Gestapo boots had caught her eye and she quickly traded two milk cans for them. Her Papa hadn't been too happy with the trade, but permitted it since it was in benefit of the poor man.

A week ago, they had heard the news that he'd been hanged. To the day, his body hung in display in the town square as a warning to all Jews.

Sophie subconsciously rubbed at her neck. She had no intention of gettingacquainted with the noose.

The wafting smell of her strudels drew her out of her dark thoughts. A subtle smile crossed her face at the thought of why she had made them. It was in celebration of an entire year to the day that they had been successfully hiding her greatest and only friend Shoshanna, along with her family, from the Nazis.

Sophie had convinced her father a year ago to take pity on the Jewish family, and allow them to hide in their barn. To her surprise, the family preferred to live under the floorboards, so there would be no chance of suspicion. But the plan had gone with only one hitch, and though anyone would prefer freedom compared to what the Dreyfus's were doing, the family had no choice.

Given the opportunity, Sophie would _gladly _rid the world of the Nazis _one at a time._

Realizing she'd been glaring at a sheet her sister had just hung from the clothesline to dry, Sophie averted her gaze to the strudels in front of her. Counting the strudels, she smiled. There were nine, five for the Dreyfus' and four for hers. She smiled at the thought of surprising them with her gift. She only wished she could cook more for them, but her father had put his foot down on the matter, saying it would raise too much suspicion. She'd already been caught the week before, smuggling extra rations from market by a couple of Nazi Officers.

The incident hadn't ended well, but she still considered it a victory.

_Hopefully no one has found the bodies yet… _Sophie thought with a grimace.

She sighed as her thoughts drifted to another close call she'd had. Nine months ago, when the inspectors had showed up and found no trace of the family, had Shoshanna's younger brother Amos sneezed a moment sooner, they would have all been goners.

A large clanking metal sound brought her out of her reverie. She looked over her shoulder to see her youngest sister Charlotte, huffing and puffing after setting the mixing bowl filled with crème on the counter. It had taken a lot out of effort on her part to mix it by hand. Sophie sent a subtle smile her way. In fondness, she repeated her mother's words. "Never forget the _crème_."

Despite her shortcomings, Sophie's mother Julia had been a delightful woman. Her unfortunate end came all too soon, but Sophie would never forget her mother's life lessons. Her death was the most prevalent lesson of all, _trust no one._

With Julia's departure came Sophie's anger. She became cold and ruthless, disassociating herself from the rules of society. She refused to socialize with others, not even her family. Her Papa referred her hard exterior as "The Wall." In eighteen years, it had been built so high; hardly anyone could connect with her.

That was until a young Jewish girl by the name of Shoshanna Dreyfus, came into her life. With a growing hatred towards the Jewish people, she too chose to disassociate herself with the public. The duo had met a few years ago, while Sophie was kicking the shit out of some child that chosen to insult her. Strangely enough, the Jewish adolescent appeared at her side and joined in on the beating. It had surprised Sophie, and warmed her heart a bit amidst the rage.

As the beating continued, they began to converse. Sophie soon learnt that the same child had insulted Shoshanna that day, and she couldn't resist the opportunity.

_It's always fun to have friends within madness._

From that day forward, Sophie and Shoshanna were inseparable. The two were closer than sisters, and held a bond beyond words. Each had a calming effect on the other, and together, they had something to live for; especially with the growing problem with Sophie's stepmother.

In 1925, Sophie's Papa married a woman by the name of Jeanette. Sophie wasn't fond of her from the start, not only did she hate her personality, but she didn't want to share her father's affections with another woman.

Sophie's stepmother had always been a demanding woman when it came to her. Sophie couldn't recall a time when Jeanette had been genuinely nice to her, but then again, Sophie wasn't the nicest child and the only memories she had of her late stepmother, were when she was being naughty.

Jeanette wasn't particularly fond of marrying a man raising a child that had been the result of an affair with the town prostitute. But not having much choice in the matter, she went ahead and married Sophie's Papa. Within a couple of years they had two more daughters, Julie and Charlotte. Bringing Charlotte into the world ended Jeanette's life. Resulting in Sophie becoming the closest thing to a mother they had. The girls would do anything to make their eldest sister smile.

Sophie used this to her advantage, and had them doing most of her chores in exchange for a rare smile.

Needless to say, she'd grown accustomed to manipulation and used her wiles to her advantage.

Had she used her feminine wiles on the boys in town, she'd probably have them begging at her boots instead of fearing them.

She definitely wanted the latter effect when it came to the Nazis.

The distant hum of an engine brought her out of her contemplation. Across the rolling green hills of the countryside emerged the familiar sight of a German convertible along with two motorcycles flanking it.

_Fils de pute._ – {Son of a bitch}

Sophie did a quick head count, there were four of them, two soldiers on motorcycles, one driver, and a passenger.

_This guy must be important to have an entourage._

Her hazel eyes blazed at the sight of the motorcade making its way towards the house. She grasped the nearest steak knife on impulse, and made her way towards the doorway; briefly knocking on the floorboards she whispered, "We have company."

Sophie wasn't sure whether she should be more worried for herself or Shoshanna.

Only time would tell.

She swiftly opened the front door and ran out of the house, knife glistening in the daylight. Charlotte apprehensively followed her to the doorway and watched as her sister made a mad dash to their Papa's side.

Noticing he'd just set his axe into the tree stump, Sophie reached for it, but her father's hand caught hers. She looked into his eyes, reflecting the same intensity in his. Her Papa took her left shoulder in one hand and pointed to the door, sweat trailing from his brow into his beard.

In a stern yet hushed voice he spoke in French. "Go back inside and put the knife away. Stay calm and don't open that mouth of yours. Everything will be fine." His grip on her shoulder tightened.

She rolled her eyes juvenilely, but nodded her head nevertheless.

Her Papa let go of her shoulder as she spun on her heel and stomped back towards their house, taking a worried Charlotte's hand along with her and dragging her back inside.

Unbeknownst to her father, Sophie had slipped the knife into the deepest pocket of her grey skirt.

Never would she assume that everything would be fine.

She quickly returned to the window, watching the mystery guests from a distance. Her gaze shifted to her father as he took a seat on the stump and ordered Julie to fetch some water.

"Thank you darling," he spoke as she pumped the water,"now go inside and take care of Sophie, we don't know what she'll do."

Sophie crossed her arms pouting. Why couldn't he trust her?

Julie ran to the window and set the water basin on the ledge. As their eyes met, Sophie sent her the _"you can't handle me"_ look and smirked, arms still folded. Julie averted her gaze to the ground and resumed her run towards the door, when her Papa called out to her calmly, "Don't run." Her steps slowed, and she soon rejoined her sisters in the house.

He soon approached the window Sophie was leaning against and without looking at her, began to splash water all over his front and neck. Sophie had never seen her Papa so flustered. It bothered her to see him in such a way.

As soon as he was done, he looked at her from under his brows; she offered him a weary smile and made a shooing gesture to him.

By this time, the Nazi entourage had stopped in front of their home and the man she assumed to be the investigator, stepped out of the car. After having a few words with the driver in German, he strode leisurely up their property. His grey uniform, Officer's visor cap, and black leather duster gave away his rank. He was an S.S. Officer, and in an instant she could tell, he was damn proud of it.

_Insolent cochon. _– {Insolent pig}

The leather attaché case in his left hand swung along with his stride. A smug smile graced his face as he began motioning to the ground, speaking to her Papa in perfect French.

"Is this the property of Perrier LaPadite?"

Her father stood, hands at his sides as he responded, "I am Perrier LaPadite."

With the confirmation, the stranger reached for her Papa's hand in greeting. This mystery man was a lot different than the previous inspectors; he seemed to almost take joy upon the occasion.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Monsieur LaPadite. I am Colonel Hans Landa of the S.S."

_Oh merde, The Jew Hunter._


	2. The Liar, the Bitch, & the War Criminal

Sorry it took so long to post, a lot of things came up and I was waiting on my editor. But I made this chapter extra-long for you!

I'd like to thank all who reviewed, and added this story to their favorites/watch lists.

Extra thanks to Hyperia for helping me with translations, it was much appreciated!

A lot of time and effort was placed into the creation of this story, so getting more feedback is wunderbar!

If you haven't noticed, I have a tendency to make movie references. I referred to Pink Floyd's The Wall in the last installment. In this chapter, there's a reference to another Tarantino film. Can you find it?

As an added note, every installment is a mix between my own work, and the original script/movie. So if you find material that isn't familiar to you, it means I'm taking liberties.

And for the Jewish readers of my story, happy sixth day of Hanukkah!

**Disclaimer:** Characters and situations of Inglourious Basterds are the property of Quentin Tarantino. Sophie's mine. Don't sue me.

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**The Liar, the Bitch, and the War Criminal**

**Part Deux**

* * *

_Oh merde, The Jew Hunter._

Colonel Landa offered his hand to her Papa. Taking the German hand in his, he shook it.

"How may I help you?" Her Papa gruffly asked.

"I was hoping you would invite me inside your home and we may have a discussion." His smile never missed a beat as he spoke.

"Certainly." Her Papa gestured to the door; Landa smiled in return and followed him.

Sophie watched as they made their way to her home, and for an instant, she caught the Colonel's gaze. Catching her peaking, the Colonel halted his footing to examine her. Turning his head her way, he flashed his infamous Cheshire smile in approval, and resumed his pace, continuing as though nothing had happened.

In shock, she swiveled around and noticed that her sisters had formed a line along the kitchen entrance, Julie gestured for her to stand along with them. Taking a few steps towards them, Sophie found herself at the end of the formation; hopefully the Colonel wouldn't pay as much attention to her if she were last in line.

At that moment, the door to the farm house swung open, her Papa entered followed by the Colonel. Rather than proceeding forward, they stood by the open door as their gaze fell upon the ladies of the room.

The head of the house introduced them uneasily. "Colonel Landa, this is my family."

Sophie glanced to her side and noticed her sisters had adopted smiles in greeting the Jew Hunter. Sophie, on the other hand, refused to kiss his ass. She stood glaring at his form, hands stuffed in her pockets. One of which grasped the handle of her knife tightly.

Unfortunately her demeanor was taken notice by the Colonel, and he approached her as a cat would stalk its prey. Her gaze never faltered as he approached. As he halted in front of her figure, she stared into his hazel depths defiantly.

Unlike the previous officers that tried to interrogate her, his form didn't overshadow hers. In fact, they stood eye to eye. Almost as if they were equals… _almost._

Sophie knew what he had come there for, and knew not to let her guard down.

The Colonel clicked his heels together, and snatched Sophie's left hand right out of her pocket. For a moment, she stood shell-shocked as his hand held hers. Her eyes widened and then fell to her hand. An unmistakable sigh escaped her lips; she had thankfully been holding the knife in her other pocket.

Hopefully he wouldn't take too much notice of her relief.

Landa began to introduce himself, but rather than introducing himself to the whole family, he spoke directly to her, eyes never parting.

"Col. Hans Landa of the S.S. Mademoiselle_,_ at your service." Landa then raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Everyone froze at this. No man had ever had the _audacity_ to kiss Sophie LaPadite's hand before.

In astonishment, she grew weak-kneed and almost allowed herself to fall in shock. _How dare he!_

Landa on the other hand, assumed she was swooning by his effect on her, and his smile grew. Sophie could almost catch a twinkle in his eye.

Without letting go of her hand, he continued. "Please excuse my intrusion on your routine."

Without thinking, two words slipped out of her mouth.

"No problem." _Why the hell did you say __that__?!_

His smile grew ever-wider. While holding her hand, his gaze never faltering, he spoke. Sophie could clearly hear the huskiness within his voice as he addressed her father. "Monsieur LaPadite, the rumors I have heard in the village about your family are all true. Your eldest daughter _is_ a beautiful woman."

His eyes and hands finally broke from hers; a breath Sophie hadn't realized she was holding escaped her lips.

"And each of your daughters is more lovely then the last."

Sophie finally noticed the others in her presence and blushed ashamed of what had just transpired. Her Papa uncomfortably thanked the Colonel, whose gaze now drifted between each of the women.

The father then gestured to the dinner table. "Please have a seat."

The Nazi Officer accepted the offer, turning back towards the girls; he sent a grin directly to Sophie. Taking off the grey S.S. cap he'd been wearing, he placed it on the table. He kept his black attaché case on the floor by his feet.

Their Papa then spoke to Julie, "Julie, would you be so good as to get the Colonel some wine?"

As Julie took a step towards the icebox, the Colonel caught her wrist and addressed her father. "Ah no," He leaned back in his chair, still holding her wrist. "_Merci be coupe_ Monsieur LaPadite, but no wine. This being a dairy farm one would be safe in assuming you have milk?" His gaze drifted between the farmer and his daughter.

"_Oui."_ The traitor smiled.

He gently patted her hand and said, "Then milk is what I prefer." He then released her to go to her business.

Sophie's eyes followed her sister cross the room. As they drifted, she noticed that the Colonel was sending her the most impenetrable gaze she had ever seen, for once she had no idea what was going on in the mind of a man.

She bashfully averted her gaze to the floor, taking particular interest in her leather boots.

_How did I get shit on my boots? Oh yes, cows._

A voice called her out of her thoughts. "Sophie, would you please close the window." Following her Papa's orders, she strolled across the room; two eyes following her like a hawk. Attempting not to look suspicious, Sophie hesitantly drew her clammy hand slowly from her pocket, letting go of the knife.

She removed the strudels from the ledge and placed them on a nearby counter. Eyeing the soldier outside, she quickly closed the panes and turned, locking eyes with the Jew Hunter.

His grin grew ever-larger as his gaze focused on the steaming strudels.

Julie then returned from the icebox with a craft of milk along with a glass. Setting the tall glass in front of him, she poured the contents of Sophie's precious milk for the Jew Hunter.

"_Merci."_ He thanked, but did not reach for the glass. His eyes were fixated on something else.

Sophie grew infuriated by this._ Degage mon strudels__!_ – {Fuck off my strudels!}

"I had been wondering where that _d__é__lectable_ smell was coming from up the road." His enunciation of _"d__é__lectable" _made Sophie want to gag. "Would it be too much trouble to sample one of your strudels?" He winked!

"_Non-!"_ Before she could finish, her Papa sent her a disapproving glare.

"Sophie that is no way to treat our guest; you made more than enough." He directed his attention to the Colonel. "Please excuse my daughter- she gets defensive when it comes to food."

"I do not." Sophie protested, folding her arms beneath her bosom.

Unbeknownst to her, the Colonel had been eyeing her curves in appreciation. "I can see the results." He purred.

"Are you calling me fat?" She snapped at the S.S. Officer.

Her father sighed and touched his forehead; she'd always been defensive when it came to her eating habits. This certainly was neither the time nor person to get into an argument with.

Noticing her father's exasperation, Sophie bowed her head in defeat and tried to calm down. Grumbling French curses under her breathe; she went to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a plate along with a fork from a drawer. Despite her outward calmness, Sophie was itching to reach for her knife and end this charade.

Plating the strudel, she brought it to the table and set it down forcefully in front of the Officer. His eyes trailed from the strudel to an adjacent counter where Charlotte had left the bowl of crème. Knowing exactly what he was thinking, Sophie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, refusing to submit without his saying so.

"I see you have also made _crème_, please don't hold out on me." He batted his eyelashes. He seemed to take particular joy in pushing Sophie's buttons.

In a blur of motion, she took the nearest spoon off the counter, swiped it through the _crème_ and lobbed it onto his strudel with so much force; they could hear the pastry crack.

_Enjoy your fucking pastry, Colonel Strudel. _

To make matters worse, rather than reaching for the fork and attacking the pastry, he reached for the glass of milk. Raising the glass to her in a 'Cheers' fashion, he proceeded to drink the entire glass.

She stood gaping. _Fils de pute! _– {Son of a bitch!}

Not only was this making a mockery of her ego, but the drink seemed to draw out forever. _He was taking his time!_ Sophie wasn't just merely livid with his audacity, but she found it very unsettling to realize the associations (_cattle, daughter_) Landa had made by drinking the milk of her heifers.

_Salaud!_ – {Bastard!}

He cast a glance over the rim at her as he finished, downing the delicious contents. Holding the now empty glass in one hand, he smacked his lips and looked to the head of the house.

"Monsieur, to both your family and your cows, I say; Bravo." He then placed the empty glass next to the untouched strudel.

"_Merci."_ LaPadite replied, not thrilled in the least.

The Colonel gestured to the table, addressing him. "Please, join me at your table."

Everyone was so on edge that they hadn't noticed to go about their normal routine with guests, such as sitting down. "Very well." He strode to the table, and rather than sitting directly next to the Nazi, he kept his distance and left an empty chair between the two.

Landa smirked conspicuously.

The Colonel leaned over to him, and spoke in a relatively hushed voice. "Monsieur LaPadite, what we have to discuss, would be better discussed in private." He gestured to the women of the room. "You'll notice I left my men outside. If it wouldn't offend them, could you ask your lovely ladies to step outside?"

"You are right." He agreed and nodded towards the girls. "Sophie, would you take the girls outside? The Colonel and I need to have a few words."

She gladly did as she was told and gathered the girls to the door, lagging behind the rest to cast a last glimpse at her father. He gave her a half-hearted smile in reassurance.

Just as she was about to inhale some of the fresh air, an unwelcome voice disturbed her.

"_Ah ah ah."_ The Colonel tsked her. She began to cough, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

"I am not done with you yet." She could sense he was smiling again.

Turning on her heel, she once more tried to repress the urge to make a grab for her knife.

The Colonel pulled out the seat between him and her father, and gestured as a gentleman would to sit down.

_Gentleman,_ she thought, _Gentleman my ass._

A very faux smile crossed her features. Sophie remained standing, arms crossed, refusing his offer.

He patted the seat next to him.

She remained standing.

"I assure you Mademoiselle, my intentions are pure." A certain edge became evident in his voice as he grew impatient.

She didn't budge.

His smile turned to a frown. And with a single finger, he pointed down directly into the cushion of the wooden seat, leaving no room for argument.

With a heavy sigh, Sophie maneuvered around the table, gently prodding her Papa in the back for not defending her honor. Sophie noticed as she took her seat, that the S.S. Officer had casually wrapped his arm around the back of her chair. She growled under her breath, and placed particular care into leaning as far forward from his arm as possible.

"Monsieur LaPadite," He sighed and began to pull off his gloves. "I regret to inform you that I have exhausted the extent of my French." He tossed the gloves next to his hat on the table. "To continue to speak it so inadequately, would only serve to embarrass me. However, I've been lead to believe both you and your daughter speak English quite well?"

"_Oui."_ Her Papa replied.

Sophie was so on edge by now; she felt the urge to scream at the admittance. Suppressing it, her head fell in slight submission.

"Well, it just so happens, I do as well. This being your house, I ask your permission to switch to English for the remainder of the conversation?"

_Son of a bitch can speak French perfectly! He's flaunting his talents!_

"Certainly." _Damn you Papa!_

Tossing all formalities out the window, Landa leaned back in his seat and began to speak, accentuating everything he said with hand gestures. Sophie felt the movement of his fingers rapping on the top of her chair.

"Well I'm very familiar with you, and your family. I have no way of knowing if you are familiar with _who I am_." He grinned in question."Are you two aware of my existence?"

"Yes." The two replied in unison; Sophie more exasperatedly.

"This is good." He grinned appreciatively.

"Are you aware of the job I've been ordered to carry out in France?"

It took a moment for her Papa to reply, fear evident in his voice to her. "Yes."

"Please tell me what you've heard." The Colonel gushed to hear more about himself.

_Conceited prick._

"I have heard that the Fuehrer has put you in charge of rounding up the Jews left in France who are either hiding or passing as Gentile."

The Colonel threw his hands up in the air and smacked them against the table, returning to his sides. "The Fuehrer couldn't have said it better himself."

Sophie sighed in relief as he'd finally let go of her chair. She relaxed a bit, but kept her back clear of the seat in case his arm returned.

Landa picked up his briefcase off the floor and set it on the table, riffling through it as Sophie's Papa continued to speak. "But the meaning of your visit, pleasant though it is, is um… mysterious to me." He leaned forward. "The Germans went through my house nine months ago for hiding Jews. They found nothing." He said, as he crossed his arms.

Landa was going about only what Sophie could consider was his 'routine' as he set out paper and a bottle of ink. His eyes never met theirs.

"I am aware of that. I read the report of this area." He reached into a pocket inside his duster, and pulled out an expensive black fountain pen and proceeded to get it ready to be dipped in the ink as he spoke.

"But like any enterprise, when it is under new management, there is always a slight duplication of efforts. Most of it being a complete waste of time," He sent a brief smile to them and returned to dipping his pen in the ink. "-but needs to be done nevertheless."

"I just have a few questions Monsieur LaPadite. If you can assist me with answers," He finished dawdling with his pen and screwed on the cap. "-my department can close the file on your family. "

A few moments passed without a word being exchanged, as Landa rifled through a notebook, searching for something of importance. He eventually found what he was looking for, and brought his pen to the paper, reading it over before continuing.

"Now before the occupation, there were four Jewish families in this area, all dairy farmers like yourself. The Dolerac's, the Loveitt's, and the Dreyfus's, is that correct?" He looked up at the two.

Sophie's father replied, "To my knowledge, those were the Jewish families of the dairy farmers."

Landa was about to turn the page, when he was interrupted by her father. "Herr Colonel, would it disrupt you if I smoked my pipe?"

Before he turned to it, the Colonel cast a big smile to him and gestured about with his arms that he was welcome to smoke within his own home. "This is your house, make yourself comfortable!" He spoke, gesturing with a dramatic flourish.

Sophie's Papa casually rose from his seat, Sophie watched as he went to the mantle and gathered his fixings. Landa continued looking between papers. His eyebrows rose as he continued. "...All have been accounted for except the Dreyfus's."

Sophie subconsciously began to lean forward to read the papers. Landa noticed this and sent her a smile, leaning back and allowing her to read what page he was on. Amongst the notes, there was a list of names; all printed, with elegant jot marks next to them. Sophie's eyes slowly traced the paper, unaware that the Colonel was pushing them towards her for a better view. One category in particular caught Sophie's eye, "LaPadite."

Next to each name, there was a physical description along with bits of information such as, "Speaks English" or "Smokes pipe."

Sophie was puzzled as to the reason why he had made all of his notes in English.

Her eyes widened as they fell upon her name. Scrawled in English next to it, were the words, "Gorgeous Bitch." Surprised, she looked up at the Colonel, whom sent her a wink. Blushing shamefully she lowered her head, trying to hide her comprehension. She finally noticed how far across the table the paper had drifted towards her when the Colonel brought it back to himself.

Landa was having a great deal of fun with her; it was easy to manipulate her emotions. From the rumors, he had expected her to be a cold hearted bitch, not a blushing beauty. She was quite the catch.

The Colonel continued his business. "Somewhere within the last year, it would appear they have vanished; which brings me to the conclusion that they've either made success of their escape or someone is very successfully hiding them."

Sophie snapped up as she caught on with his game. He had spoken the last part too offhandedly; after all, that was the reason for his visit. He was trying to throw her father off! Meanwhile, her Papa went about readying his tobacco at a leisurely pace, trying to calm himself while not making much eye contact with Landa.

"What have you heard about the Dreyfus's?" The Jew Hunter questioned.

"Only rumors-" He was caught off by the Colonel's enthusiasm.

"I love rumors! Facts can be so misleading, where rumors, true or false are often revealing." As the Colonel quipped out the rhyme, Sophie's eyes were just about ready to bulge out of her head. She could not predict this man!

"And from what it appears, the rumors of Sophie here are quite true." He patted her hand and sent a wink.

_Bastard! _Sophie was stunned by his flirtatiousness. Had she not been so overwhelmed by his presence, she may have realized the implications of his comment.

"So Monsieur LaPadite, what rumors have you heard regarding the Dreyfus's?" He questioned, returning to business.

"Again, this is just a rumor- but we heard the Dreyfus's had made their way into Spain." He finally lit his wooden pipe, and proceeded to smoke.

"So the rumors you've heard have been of escape?"

"_Oui_- I mean yes." Sophie could tell he was beginning to relax.

"Were the LaPadite's and Dreyfus's friendly?"

"We were families in the same community, in the same business. I wouldn't say we were friends, but members of the same community, we had common interest."

"I was informed by some of the townspeople, that Sophie here had a close relationship with a member, a girl perhaps?"

"Yes." Her father answered for her.

The Colonel's attention returned to Sophie. "My dear Sophie, I did not have you stay behind to listen to boorish formalities. Do tell!" The palm of his hand brushed the back of hers, causing a chill to run up her spine.

With apprehension evident in her tone, Sophie explained. "Shoshanna, the daughter, was a friend of mine. Like my father, we had common interest; mainly a common disinterest in boys." She spoke, emphasizing the last word, glaring at the Colonel.

"Is there any particular reason for your disinterest in boys?" He coaxed more out of her.

"_Oui. _The 'men' of our community are interested in one thing, and one thing only, Colonel." Her voice grew tenser with every word. "I'd appreciate it if we were to keep off this subject."

The S.S. Colonel took in the answer, seemed to except it, and then moved to the next question; directing it to her father. "Having never met the Dreyfus's, would you confirm me the exact members of their household and their names?"

As soon as he started naming them, Landa's demeanor changed. He grew serious; the smile was lost to business.

"There were five of them. The father, Jacob… wife, Miriam… her brother Bob." He took great deal in looking as though he didn't recall.

"How old is Bob?" The Colonel questioned.

"Thirty- thirty one?" _Good one Papa._ Sophie smiled at his act as she relaxed a bit.

"Continue."

"And the children, Amos… and Shoshanna- as you know."

"Ages of the children?"

Her Papa let out a fake sigh and looked like he was focusing. He brought his elbow up to the table in a general thinking pose, covering his mouth.

"Amos was 9 or 10."

She saw Landa write it down.

"And Shoshanna?"

"Shoshanna was either 18 or 19?"

Landa's gaze rose to Sophie. She corrected her father, "19."

"Well I guess that should do it." Landa sent them a smile and began to collect his papers and supplies back into his briefcase.

Sophie was very confused by this. _That's it?_

Her Papa continued puffing on his pipe, cool as a cucumber.

"However, before I go, could I have another glass of your delicious milk?" The Colonel smiled again.

"But of course." He rose, deciding to play it safe, remembering Sophie's reaction to his last order.

As he approached the icebox to pull out the craft of milk, Landa's full attention reverted back to Sophie.

"So Sophie, are you aware of the nickname the people of France have given me?" He took great pride in speaking of his name.

"We have no interest in such things." Her father spoke for her, trying to keep off the touchy subject.

Landa's eyes remained staring into Sophie's, as he replied to her father, venom evident in his genial voice. "Monsieur, I was addressing your daughter."

Sophie cut in with her own question. "Are you aware of the name the people of France have given me?"

_Two can play this game!_ She challenged him

"Ah yes, as a matter of fact I have. _La Connasse de la Vallée_, if I am correct?"

She smiled and gave a brief nod. _At least he knows what he's dealing with. _

Sophie's Papa brought the full glass to the table and slid it back to the Colonel. His gaze turned to Sophie in warning. He took a seat and resumed smoking his pipe, taking audience to the show.

Remembering his question, she replied strongly. "And yes, I'm aware."

"What are you aware of?" He gushed.

The man would not stop pestering her till she answered his question.

With a nudge of her father's arm, she cued in on his meaning. Following her father's lead, she put on an act. Feigning fear, and averting her eyes, she spoke quickly. "They call you The Jew Hunter."

"Precisely!" Landa's words cut through the air like a knife.

Shivers ran up Sophie's spine.

He leaned back in his seat contentedly. "I understand your trepidation in repeating it. Heydrich apparently hates the moniker the good people of Prague have bestowed upon him. Actually why he would hate the name, "The Hangman" is baffling to me." He laughed a bit. "It would appear he has done everything in his power to earn it. But I, on the other hand,_ love_ my unofficial title, precisely because I've earned it."

His words were like venom. His smile could no longer be hidden.

"The feature that makes me such an effective hunter of the Jews, is, as opposed to most German soldiers, I can _think_ like a Jew." He picked up the milk once more and continued. "Where they can only think like a German," Before he drank he corrected himself jokingly. "More precisely a German soldier."

As the Jew Hunter enjoyed his fresh milk, he continued to theorize with them. All the while, Sophie was fuming with the fact that her strudel remained untouched.

LaPadite relit his pipe, trying to remain calm.

"Now if one were to determine what attribute the German people share with the beast, it would be the cunning and the predatory instinct of a hawk." His speech began to slow. "But if one were to determine the attributes the Jews share with the beast, it would be that of the rat."

"The Fuehrer and Gobbles propaganda have said pretty much the same thing. But where our conclusions differ is, I don't consider the comparison an insult."

_What?_

"Consider for a moment the world a rat lives in. It is a hostile world indeed. If a rat were to scamper through your front door right now, would you greet it with hostility?" His question was directed at her father.

"I suppose I would." He replied.

"Has a rat ever done anything to you to create this animosity you feel toward them?"

"Rat's spread disease, they bite people-" His conclusion was interrupted by the Jew Hunter.

"Rats were the cause of the bubonic plague, but that was some time ago. I purpose to you, any disease a rat could spread, a squirrel could equally carry. Would you agree?

"_Oui."_

"Yet I assume you don't share the same animosity with squirrels as you do with rats, do you?"

"No." He whispered.

"Yet, they are both rodents, are they not? And except for the tail, they even look rather alike, don't they?"

"That is an interesting thought, Herr Colonel."

"However, interesting as the thought may be, it makes not _one_ bit of difference as to how you feel." He jabbed the table with his forefinger for emphasis.

"If a rat were to walk in here right now, _as I'm talking_, would you greet it with a saucer of your delicious milk?" His hands grasped the glass momentarily.

"Probably not."

"I didn't think so. You don't like them. You don't really know why you don't like them. All you know, is you find them repulsive."

The Colonel paused to let the metaphor sink in.

Sophie took this moment of hesitance to interrupt.

"Herr Colonel-" A genial pat of the hand cut her off.

"Please call me Hans." He spoke, his smile growing ever wider. Despite his flirtatious attitude, he'd grown to notice her quirks. Her right hand was growing into a fist, as her fingernails gripped into the table, leaving five long claw marks in the wood.

Repressing the urge to strike him, she calmed herself and spoke. "I have never held any animosity towards rats. In fact, as a child I had a one as a pet." She proudly spoke of her find. "I had found it in the field one day and kept it in that cupboard over there." She pointed. "Not once did it ever bite me, or ever cause harm to me."

The Colonel chuckled, looking over; he took notice of her father's reaction. LaPadite looked rather shocked by her confession.

_Perhaps the poor man is unaware of the hidden Jews._ The Colonel speculated.

Finding her confession entertaining, and further proof, the Jew Hunter grinned at her. "There are always exceptions." He let the statement stand.

The intensity of both Landa's and Sophie's gazes heightened. In that moment, they shared one common thought.

_I'm on to you. _

Wishing nothing more than to end the charade, Sophie parted her lips in protest, but the Colonel was the first to speak. "All thoughts of this home aside," He cast a fleeting glance to Sophie. "What a tremendously hostile world a rat must endure. Yet, not only does he survive, he thrives. And the reason for this is our little foe has an instinct for survival and preservation second to none. And that Monsieur and Mademoiselle is what a Jew shares with a rat."

"Consequently, a German soldier conducts a search of a house suspected of hiding Jews. Where does the hawk look? He looks in the barn, he looks in the attic, he looks in the cellar. He looks everywhere_ he_ would hide. But there are many places it would never occur to a hawk to hide." He paused. "However, the reason the Fuehrer has brought me off my Alps in Austria, and placed me in French cow country today, is because it _does_ occur to me." He placed his hand over his heart. "Because I'm aware of what tremendous feats human beings are capable of once they abandon dignity."

His tone changed completely. "May I smoke my pipe as well?" He questioned gleefully.

Sophie glimpsed from the floorboards to her Papa, and noticed his façade was little by little eroding.

Swallowing back his fear, her Papa quipped, "Please Herr Colonel, make yourself at home."

The Jew Hunter then removed from his coat pocket the most ridiculous pipe Sophie had ever seen. Her fears were briefly set aside by the overwhelming sight. He was smoking the same God damn pipe Sherlock Holmes used! _What the fuck?_ Her eye twitched, she'd been caught completely off guard!

She attempted to compose herself as the Colonel busied himself with his pipe. Remembering her friend, she grew serious. Tapping the heel of her boot against the floorboards, she attempted to warn the family, as the German continued to hold court at the Frenchman's table.

"The other mistake the German soldiers make is the severe handling of the citizens who give shelter and aid to the Jews. These citizens are not enemies of the state. They are simply confused people; trying to make some sense out of the madness war creates." Sophie grew tenser with each word he spoke. The heel of her boot dug deeper into the floor in forewarning.

"These citizens do not need punishing. They simply need to be reminded of their duty in wartime." Taking a few more puffs from his illustrious pipe, he continued. "Let's use you as an example Monsieur LaPadite. In this war, you have found yourself in the middle of a conflict that has _nothing_ to do with yourself, or your lovely ladies, or your cows – yet here you are."

"So, Monsieur LaPadite, let me propose a question. In this time of war, what is your number one duty? Is it to fight the Germans in the name of France to your last breath?"

He cast a glance from the corner of his eye at Sophie.

"Or is it to harass the occupying army to your best ability?"

He stole another glance her way.

"Or is it to protect the poor unfortunate victims of warfare who cannot protect themselves?"

His gaze remained on the helpless dairy farmer.

"Or is your number one duty in this time of bloodshed, to protect those very beautiful women who constitute your family?"

The Colonel let the last statement stand. The famer remained silent, contemplating his situation.

"That was a question Monsieur LaPadite. In this time of war, what do you consider your number one duty?"

"To protect my family." The farmer struggled to state, as his voice had gone raspy. He slowly edged closer to Sophie, draping an arm around her in protection.

The Colonel brought his pipe back to his mouth as he continued.

"Now my job dictates-" he puffed "that I must have my men enter your home-" he puffed again. "And conduct a _thorough_ search, before I can officially cross your family's name off my list.

"And if there are any irregularities to be found, rest assured, there will be. That is unless you have something to tell me, something that makes the conducting of a search unnecessary." He left a dramatic pause after the avowal. "I might add also, that any information that makes my performing of _my duty _easier will not be met with punishment. Actually, quite on the contrary, it will be met with _reward_."

Sophie did not like where this was going. _Non Papa, don't give in to __him__!_

"And that reward will be your family will cease to be harassed in any way, by the German military during the rest of our occupation of your country." His hawk-like eyes returned to Sophie. "I may also permit the charges held against your eldest here, to _slide_."

Sophie gaped. _The Bastard knew!_

The Jew Hunter rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, was it so hard to hold some mutual respect?

"Oh come now dear, you don't truly believe I would not be aware of your little _tryst_ in the forest last week? You left enough sufficient evidence for us to have you hanged last week." He bleakly stated.

"Then why didn't you?" She asked in a hushed angry voice.

Rather than responding, the Colonel dove into his coat pocket. Sophie grasped for her knife, preparing for the worst. Expecting a gun, Sophie was both confused, but nonetheless relieved to be greeted with a series of photographs.

The Colonel splayed the gruesome pictures across the table for all to see. Each photo depicted a crime scene involving two disemboweled Nazi soldiers. In one photograph, what remained of a hand, held a piece of fabric, matching that of her torn blouse cuff.

Sophie's first response to the picture was _- I was so sloppy._

Blushing in embarrassment and rage, she looked to her Papa's face in question, only to be met with a look of horror.

Smiling crookedly at her discomfiture, the Colonel explained. "The force believed I would handle you much better, after all I've been scheduled to come here for quite some time." Sophie stared at him, mouth agape. Had her Papa been able to draw his eyes away from the horrors before him, he would have followed suit.

The Colonel leaned forward, addressing Sophie calmly. "Now Sophie, should you choose to walk out of this home without so much as a fuss, you will not be met by Capital punishment. In fact, I'd very much enjoy you accompanying me back to Paris." He finished with a smug smile.

Sophie sat dumbstruck, how could she possibly respond to that?

Looking to her Papa for guidance, Sophie's heart broke at what she saw. The strong façade he had dawned a few minutes prior had crumbled under the weight of potentially losing his eldest daughter. His eyes welled with tears as he choked back a sob.

_It's too late._

The Jew Hunter smirked in victory, he had won.

Shifting his gaze, he gave full attention to the farmer. The Jew Hunter went for the kill.

"You are sheltering enemies of the state, are you not?" It wasn't a question.

With fear in his gaze, he looked to the Jew Hunter and submitted. "Yes."

"You're sheltering them underneath your floorboards aren't you?"

Choking back a sob, he replied, "Yes." Sophie's toes began to curl in anxiety. She couldn't bring herself to move.

"Point out to me the area's where they're hiding." Trembling, her Papa pointed out where the innocent family laid.

The Colonel stood and walked to where he had pointed at. Gesturing to the floor with his pipe, he outlined the area, questioning him. Her Papa shook his head briefly.

"Since I haven't heard any disturbance, I assume that while they're listening, they don't speak English?"

"Yes." His gaze grew blurry with tears.

"I'm going to switch back to french now, and I want the both of you to follow my masquerade- is that clear?"

With a final "Yes" it was over, there was no saving the family beneath their floorboards.

"_No."_ Sophie whispered. She wasn't going to give up without a fight.

Sophie hastily attempted to rise from her seat, but a set of arms wrapped around her waist. Struggling against her father's grip she cried out to alert the family, only to have his hand cover her mouth. Pressing himself to her, she could feel his quiet sobs rise through his chest.

Her eyes grew glossy as she struggled harder. _How could he?!_

She began to kick her feet, trying to hit the floor as loudly as possible. A pair of matching boots halted her as they settled on her toes.

Breathing heavily through her father's hand, her glossy eyes shifted to the Colonel's. He stood before her, looking down his nose on her in disappointment. But as her eyes met his, she saw nothing but excitement within their depths.

_What a fucked up man! _

Matching her gaze, the Colonel looked into the depths of her hazel eyes. He could see nothing but rage and despair through her tears - _just how he liked it._

For some odd reason, the bastard's presence calmed her. The Bitch of the Valley seemed defeated.

Trusting her to remain calm under her father's hold, he walked to the door. Taking up French, he resumed his masquerade. "Monsieur and Mademoiselle LaPadite, I thank you for your milk and your hospitality." He began to gather his things. "I do believe our business here is done."

_Not yet! _Gaining a bit of her composure she struggled against her father's hold. Her heart pounded so fast, she could hear it in her ears.

He opened the door, motioning his soldiers to enter.

"Ah Madame's, I thank you for your time! We shan't be bothering your family any longer."

Two S.S. Soldiers stepped into their threshold, machine guns at the ready. As they piled through the doorway, Col. Landa pointed out silently the areas where the Jewish family was hiding.

The intensity of the room was too much for Sophie. In that moment, Sophie felt completely numb; there was nothing she could do. She was helpless.

"So, Monsieur, Mademoiselle, I bid you adieu." And with a flourish of his hand, the machine guns blazed.

Sophie's Papa began to sob; his warm tears fell to her neck, shocking her out of her reverie.

Catching her father in a moment of weakness; she pushed away his trembling hand from her mouth and screamed.

"_No!"_

The farm house was quickly filled with smoke, dust, splinters, and screams.

In a desperate attempt to change fate, Sophie hurtled herself from her seat, escaping her father's grasp. Reaching into her pocket, she grasped the knife she had so desperately been yearning for.

Noticing her movement, one of the soldiers turned to her, gun at the ready. Before he was given the opportunity to go trigger-happy, Sophie delved the knife as far as it could go into the man's eye socket. Blood splattered over her figure as she struck down upon him with great vengeance and furious anger.

His cries of agony only encouraged her more, as she pushed the blade deeper into his face. After a moment, his voice grew hushed. With the knowledge of his death, Sophie drew the blade from his eye socket, pulling out a gruesome eyeball with it.

The accompanying soldier turned to her after hearing the screams of his comrade.

Before either person could exact their vengeance upon the other, the Colonel cried, _"Aufhören!"_

Hesitantly looking his way, Sophie saw he held his finger in the air to indicate silence. At the same moment, both Landa and Sophie heard movement under the floorboards.

Glancing to the soldier in approval, the man tackled Sophie, pinning her to the floor before she could make a move. Sophie screamed in frustration as her knife was snatched away. Struggling against his grip, Sophie could barely hear the vent open on the side of her house.

Looking up from the floor, she glimpsed the blurry figure of her friend running from the home, before the silhouette of the Jew Hunter overshadowed her.

Sophie watched as the Jew Hunter crossed the floor, watching her friend run for the cover of the woods. Setting his attaché case by the doorway casually, he took the Luger from his belt and straight-arm aimed at the fleeing Jew. Cocking the hammer back with his thumb, Sophie prepared herself for the worst. She winced in anticipation, only to flinch as a single word rang through the air.

"Poopsty."

Hesitantly, Sophie opened her eyes. A miracle must have taken place! The Jew Hunter had lowered his weapon and allowed Shoshanna to get away! With a mighty cry, he bid Sophie's greatest friend adieu.

"_Au revoir Shoshanna!"_


	3. Putting Holes in Happiness

**Disclaimer:**Characters and situations of Inglourious Basterds are the property of Quentin Tarantino. Sophie's mine. Don't sue me.

I'd appreciate it if I were to get more reviews/constructive criticism. Reviews help keep this story alive.

I deliberately left a minor inconsistency in this chapter with the previous. It's incredibly minor, but I couldn't find a place to fix it. So readers, keep a sharp eye out for it. Kudos to anyone who finds it!

Sorry for its briefness, but this was originally apart of chapter two. It was suggested to me to end it sooner, with a more poignant ending.

So in celebration of 250 hits I give you chapter three!

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Putting Holes in Happiness**

* * *

Sophie watched as the Jew Hunter crossed the floor, watching her friend run for the cover of the woods. Setting his attaché case by the doorway casually, he took the Luger from his belt and straight-arm aimed at the fleeing Jew. Cocking the hammer back with his thumb, Sophie prepared herself for the worst. She winced in anticipation, only to flinch as a single word rang through the air.

"Poopsty."

Hesitantly, Sophie opened her eyes. A miracle must have taken place! The Jew Hunter had lowered his weapon and allowed Shoshanna to get away! With a mighty cry, he bid Sophie's greatest friend adieu.

"_Au revoir Shoshanna!"_

Sophie sobbed in happiness. Shoshanna was still alive!

Feeling her squirm in delight, the soldier slammed her face back into the floorboards. Blood flooded her nose, and oozed into a pool around her face. The familiar metallic taste flooded her mouth as she smiled.

Sophie was too ecstatic to give a shit about her own well being. Shoshanna was alive! If she died on the floor that day, she wouldn't have been happier. The euphoria refused to disappear, even as her situation grew worse.

Thump, thump, thump.

The set of hands holding her down reluctantly pulled away from her crumpled form as his superior approached. The heels of the Jew Hunter's boots clicked as they rested in front of her figure. Sophie's sobs of joy ceased as she tried to regain her composure; though her shoulders still shook in delight.

Lifting her head from the bloodied floor, she gave the Colonel a sickly crimson grin. She was too delighted to pay heed to his sternness. Bending knee to match her form, the Colonel examined the peculiar woman. Through the tears, Sophie could see a vague hint of curiosity held within his depths.

Even _he_ could not have predicted this reaction from her.

Landa pressed the barrel of his Luger to her temple in silent threat. Feeling the cold metal press into her, Sophie began to laugh hysterically.

_He wouldn't dare._

The Colonel arched a brow curiously. She was proving to be more of an enigma as every moment passed. Shifting the direction of the barrel of his gun, he aimed.

Sophie's laughter cut short as her eyes followed to where it pointed.

_Papa._

Perrier LaPadite had crumpled under the weight of the situation. He was pitiful. From the tears soaking his face to his trembling hands, desperately clutching at his pipe; he was beyond salvation. He would never be the same again.

Landa returned his gaze to Sophie in question. Understanding his meaning, Sophie swallowed her pride and nodded to the war criminal. There was no doubt in her mind that he would put her Papa out of his misery in that moment. For the sake of her family, she surrendered.

Wanting to here the words of compliance utter from her mouth, the Colonel questioned her in English. "No more fuss?"

Choking back a sob, she replied._"Oui."_

"_Merveilleux!"_ he cried, standing up and flamboyantly stretching his arms in a welcoming manner, all the while holding a revolver. The menacing hawk had disappeared in a flash, leaving the Jew Hunter with a child-like demeanor.

Had she not been so disoriented by the whole situation, Sophie may have found his gesture funny.

Composing himself a bit, he gestured to the table in silent indication for his subordinate to retrieve the photographic evidence splayed across it. Paying no attention to the broken farmer slumped in his seat; the soldier quickly collected the photos. In a moment of desperation, LaPadite tugged on the young man's sleeve for sympathy.

The French dairy farmer begged the soldier in broken German.

"_Bitte verletzt meine Tochter nicht!"_ – {Please, does not injure my daughters!}

The soldier paid no attention to his plea, and swiped the man's hand off his sleeve. LaPadite sobbed in despair. Returning the evidence to Col. Landa, he tucked the photos back into his pocket. Shaking his head disapprovingly at Sophie's bloodied face; Landa brought a tissue from his pocket.

He held in offering to her a swastika-embroidered handkerchief. Turning cheek to him, he grasped her chin firmly. Pulling her face to the handkerchief, the Colonel began to wipe away the blood from her face as if she were a child. Sophie rolled her eyes, and sighed. If this was what she had to do to save her family, so be it.

The Colonel placed special attention when wiping around her lips. Finally meeting his mark, he folded the hankie and placed her lips directly on the swastika. Pulling away, he examined his work. Imprinted upon the fascist symbol was a crimson kiss. The Colonel grinned and tucked his masterpiece back into his pocket.

With the assurance that she wouldn't put up a struggle as long as her family's lives were in danger, the Colonel tucked the Luger back into place at his hip. He then offered his hand to her as a gentleman would. Reaching up from the floor, she slid her alabaster fingers across his ebony glove, grasping his hand. Pulling her up with ease, he gave her hand what she assumed to be an assuring squeeze, before loosening his grip. Sophie's back went stiff as Landa snaked an arm around her waist.

Looking to his face, Sophie became absolutely livid as she noticed his lips had formed into a smug smirk.

He had won.

As he took a step forward, she had no choice but to follow at his side. Expecting her to stumble, the Colonel was surprised to find her almost gliding across the remnants of the floor.

_Such a strange girl,_ he thought. _No,_ he corrected himself, _such a strange __woman__._

Returning to the table, the Jew Hunter tipped his hat to the farmer, and approached his strudel. With an index finger, he swept it through the crème; all the while staring at Sophie's Papa. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he sucked it with enthusiasm, taunting the poor broken man.

_Victory is sweet!_

Picking up the plate and fork with his free hand, he brought it under his nose and inhaled the sweet aroma. With a final wink to Sophie's father, he brought his pastry closer to himself and turned with Sophie; leaving her home for the last time.

As Sophie walked with him, her mouth remained agape at the display she had just witnessed. He was so beyond comprehension, she couldn't even think! Feeling her go tense, the Colonel looked into her eyes and softly smiled.

Stepping from the threshold, he gestured to the soldier that had harassed Sophie to retrieve his attaché case in the doorway. As they walked down the property, Sophie looked to her sisters by the clotheslines. Julie and Charlotte had been reduced to tears. They huddled together and looked away as Sophie met their gazes.

Approaching the auto, the Colonel offered his plate to the soldier standing guard. Taking it with one hand, he opened the door with the other.

Feeling the pressure of Landa's hand on her back, Sophie cast a last glance at her home, immediately regretting it. Her father lay crumpled in the doorway of the cottage, seeing her off for the last time. Turning away from her home, Landa gestured to her to enter the car first, bending down, she slid in. Piling in after her, the Colonel waited for his soldier to return his attaché case to him before closing the door.

Time seemed to draw out forever, as the men readied to leave. Awaiting her doom, Sophie stared at her cows through the window.

So many questions filled her head, but one in particular stuck out more than any other.

_Why hadn't he killed Shoshanna?_

Feeling the car lurch forward, Sophie finally noticed the entourage had left a motorcycle behind.

_Heh, at least I took one down. _She thought smugly.

Tucking his case under the seat, the Colonel directed his attention to the beauty sitting next to him.

_Too bad she's to be hanged. _He thought dejectedly. _Unless…_ The wheels in his mind began to turn.

His Cheshire smile returned to his face as he patted her thigh, surprising her. Looking to the war criminal, Sophie noticed an odd twinkle in his eye.

No longer being able to stand the silence, she questioned him in English. "What are you going to do with me?"

"We're going to make an example of you." A sinister smirk followed his comment.

This could not be good, not in the least.


	4. Memories of Fools

Sorry for the late posting, this chapter proved to be particularly hard to write. But in light of my writer's block, I have three upcoming chapters already finished! **Alert:** Thus far, this story has had over a thousand hits, and I have only received 21 reviews. Every reviewer has requested me to update soon, but I haven't been incredibly motivated due to lack of reviews. **Reviews motivate me to write, which means faster updates. So the more reviews I get the sooner the chapters come out! **

From this point forward, I will not post another chapter till I have at least 10 more reviews. I'm not keen on holding my own story hostage but with the knowledge of how many readers I have, you have **no excuse** not to review.

In the previous chapter, I made mention of a "minor inconsistency." The inconsistency was a mere wardrobe flaw. In the second chapter, Landa took off his gloves at the table; at the end of the third, Sophie "slid her alabaster fingers across his ebony glove." I'm really OCD about little things like that, but the visual was too good to pass up. ^-^ Also, in chapter 2, I quoted Pulp Fiction when Sophie began exacting her revenge on the Nazis. "…as she struck down upon him with great vengeance and furious anger." _If I had more reviews, I'd know if anyone had picked up on it._ _

For those who haven't reviewed, you will have a chance to redeem yourself. I quoted the gorgeous Colonel Tavington from The Patriot in here. It's pretty obvious, so if you find it- point it out.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and situations of Inglourious Basterds are the property of Quentin Tarantino. Sophie's mine. Don't sue me.

**Warning:** This chapter contains scenes of ultra-violence.

_Enjoy and __Review__!_

* * *

**Memories of Fools**

* * *

Tick… tock… tick… tock… tick… tock…

Looking to the clock for the hundredth time since her incarceration, Sophie tugged on her hair in frustration.

_Baiseur de mere!_ – {Mother fucker}

It had been four hours and seventeen minutes since the Jew Hunter had abandoned her to conduct business out of town. The ride to the jail in Nancy had proven to be uneventful. The Colonel had left Sophie to her thoughts after his comment, and as soon as they arrived, left both Sophie and his strudel in the care of Monsieur Dubois, the Chief of Police.

Sophie was livid. Not only had the man ruined her life, but he didn't have the common _decency _to escort her to her cell.

Sophie herself didn't understand why she was so upset. After all, who'd want to be in the presence of the Jew Hunter? Puzzled, Sophie pondered over the enigma known as Hans Landa.

Colonel Hans Landa of the S.S. had proven to be far beyond Sophie's expectations.

Never had she ever gotten so worked up over a man. Had he turned out to be another Jew-hunting Gestapo goon, Sophie wouldn't have given him a second thought, and perhaps may have even murdered him on sight. But Sophie held too much respect for him to do that now. He was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. He was… _unique._

Widening her eyes in realization, Sophie banged her face to her chained wrists.

_This day has been getting worse by the second. _

Had she had her way, she would have strangled herself with the chains that bound her hours ago. She'd rather end her life by her own hands than let the Jew Hunter do the honor. But in the company of Chief Dubois, she could never. Like her Papa, and to her upmost disdain _Landa_, Sophie held too much respect for Dubois to do anything ill in his company. The man had saved her life. He had been exceptionally lenient with the charges held against her after she assaulted two Nazi officers.

_After they assaulted me. _Sophie thought contemptuously.

Chief Dubois was the only person beyond Sophie's family that had been aware of their hiding of the Jews. Like her father, he too had a sympathetic heart. The plump mustached man had supplied Sophie with extra rations for the family, along with information of resistance efforts. Throughout her life, he had allowed her to do as she liked with a mere reprimanding slap on the hand. He could never punish such an 'innocent' face.

Dubois had played a key role in Sophie's life, and she would remember of him for the rest of her life.

_But who knows how long that will be. _

Sophie had come to her fate hours ago, though no one had made mention of her punishment, one could easily assume she was to be hanged come the morning's light.

Hearing the shuffling of a chair being pushed back, Sophie looked up from her position on the cot. Dubois offered her a wink as he rose to relieve himself, leaving her to her thoughts once more. Despite being a total pushover, the man remained silently humble to all who passed through his threshold.

Shifting her gaze, Sophie's eyes widened and narrowed in disdain. The object of her abhorrence had remained untouched.

Tick… tock… tick… tock… tick… tock…

Even the taunting of the clock could not defer her intense gaze.

Having no one to blame her predicament on besides herself, Sophie centered her hatred on the single object that had pushed her into this downward spiral of events… the strudel.

_He should have choked on it. _

Sophie cursed herself for not following her gut instinct, and stabbing the man before she could learn more about him.

_Damn it! Damn __him__! _

Trying to get her mind off both the Jew Hunter and the strudel, Sophie looked around the room. Nothing had changed since her last imprisonment two weeks prior. The walls were a dull grey; the clock had remained tauntingly next to Dubois' desk. There were no windows, no photos, and no hope. The only thing mildly interesting within the office was the map of France displayed behind Dubois' desk.

The only difference between her side and the other was the sink, the cot, and the bars separating the two. The room was kept cleanly, but a vague odor of piss and ink hung within the air. It was a shame that a nice fellow such as Monsieur Dubois had to work in the claustrophobic room.

As she glanced around the room, Sophie noticed a faint dent in the wall near the door she had come through earlier. Smirking she recalled making it; it had been a remnant from her last visit. Her smirk turned to a frown as uncomfortable memories filled her mind. It had been a week since the murders.

On the evening of July third, Sophie had been making midnight delivery rounds to the homes of Nancy. It was unusual to see any deliveries being performed at night, after curfews had been placed by the occupying Germans, but that evening was an exception. Under the guise of her deliveries, Sophie was obtaining extra rations for the Dreyfus's. Earlier that day, Monsieur Dubois had made arrangements with several businesses to leave extra rations behind their homes for the sake of the less fortunate. The people were not aware, nor did they want to know who required them, it was a tactic used to prevent admittance should there be any questioning.

Approaching the horse drawn cart with the last of the rations, she stroked Gaston's neck. The ebony stallion shook his mane in appreciation. Continuing to the back of the cart, she tucked the last of the extra blankets between the crates, Sophie gave a final sigh as she covered it with the last milk crate. The night had gone without a hitch, and she was sure there would be no need for more rations any time soon. The stress of getting caught along with the heavy lifting caused Sophie to break a sweat. Not thinking much of it, she opened a milk bottle and appreciatively began to down the contents. Satiating her thirst finally, she smiled in approval. Capping the bottle, she held the glass to her forehead, cooling herself. Her bliss was quickly shot down by the familiar tapping of Gestapo boots. Turning around, Sophie's eyes blazed at what she saw.

Approaching her were the same two who had been responsible for her imprisonment the week prior. They had harassed her with lewd comments and inappropriate gestures, and had they not been in the presence of a small crowd, Sophie would have dealt with them as she saw fit. Before she had the opportunity to strike one, Dubois stepped in and arrested her for 'disturbing the peace' as a crowd had gathered in observation.

But unlike that time, Sophie came prepared that evening. Tucked into the pocket of her skirt was her father's hunting knife, and she was more than willing to use it. Eyeing the figures approaching, Sophie noticed them stagger.

_They're drunk!_

Finding the thought of two drunken Nazis approach her all the more threatening, Sophie tensed and lowered the glass from her forehead, drawing back into a defensive stance. Sophie glared at the lapels of one of their jackets. There was no doubt in her mind of who it was; they were dressed in the same _Allgemeine S.S._ uniforms as her last encounter.

Looking up at the face of the one in front, Sophie caught the blondeleering at her lips. Noticing a stray drop of milk had trailed down the side of her mouth, Sophie wiped it away with her sleeve. Sizing the two up, she immediately felt ill at ease. They meant business.

_Oh merde… of all the nights… _

The blonde, Ludo as she recalled, had slicked back his hair once more. His glazed azure eyes traced over her figure appreciatively. Finally stopping two feet from her, he stood about six feet. Giving her a lopsided grin, he rested an arm comfortably around his brunette buddy. Sophie's eyes remained on the threatening blonde, recalling he was the assertive one.

Leaning down to her, Ludo whispered huskily in French, "Remember me?"

"_Oui."_ Sophie responded strongly. Her eye twitched; his breath smelt of German beer and cigarettes.

His stern companion questioned her in an eerily calm voice, despite his drunkenness. "What is your business at this time of night? You know of the curfew." _His French is impeccable for a German,_ she thought.

Adopting a similar calm voice, she responded. "_Oui_, I do. My Papa was insistent that I should make my deliveries in the evening. He is not well, and can not rise to milk the cows, we had no choice- otherwise the town would have no milk by morning." Her gaze never drifted from his, Sophie had always been an impeccable liar.

He nodded apprehensively, examining the milk bottle she held.

Disregarding his companion's questions, Ludo drew uncomfortably close to her; questioning her further while smiling. "Remember what you said last time we met? That should you see us again, you would-"

Cutting him off, Sophie finished for him. "-slice you Nazi fucks to pieces." The innocence she had adopted within the last moment vanished. She had not forgotten the incident.

Too drunk to take heed to her words, he grinned. "Ja that was it. But before you get to that, mind if I get a little taste of that _pussoi_?" His French was atrocious, never mind his vulgarity. Feeling the pressure of a hand grope her behind, Sophie had enough. Holding the glass milk bottle to them, Sophie warned. "Take another step and I'll follow through with my promise! _I will slice you!"_

Chuckling at her threat, the blonde questioned. "With what _ma petite_?"

Smashing the bottle to the wall, the contents poured to the ground. Pointing the broken bottle to them, Sophie held her ground.

Surprised by her gesture, the soldiers took a step back. Catching himself in a moment of fear, Ludo stepped forward again, refusing to allow a French milkmaid to push him around. Raising his hand to swipe the bottle away, his companion caught it. Taking the wrist he held, the brunette gestured to the truck with it. Ludo's eyes widened at the sight. Curious as to what they had seen Sophie glanced over her shoulder, refusing to let go of her grip on the bottle.

The corner of a blanket stuck out from between the crates. _She had been caught._

"What's this?" Ludo questioned delightedly. Without thinking, he reached past her figure, and grasped the edge of the blanket, pulling on it. Before Sophie could smash the bottle to his face, the other soldier pulled out his Luger and pointed it to Sophie, clicking off the safety.

"Drop the bottle and step away from the truck." He ordered her in perfect French.

Sophie silently complied; her bottle could not beat his gun. Lowering the glass, she watched as Ludo shuffled through the truck, tossing the crates aside, he laughed in delight as he eyed the rations. Yelling to his friend Alfons in German, he named off all the wonders she hid in the truck.

Feeling her heart begin to race, Sophie knew this was her last chance. Shifting his gaze to what Ludo found, Sophie took the opportunity. Raising the broken glass, she struck the hand that had been holding the gun. Screaming in agony, Alfons dropped the gun, gripping his bloody hand. Looking to his wounded friend, Ludo's eyes widened in horror as Sophie kicked away the gun and approached him. Attempting to reach for his gun, Sophie dove the broken bottle into his cheek. Trying to muffle out his screams from alerting the town, she covered his mouth. Delving the bottle again and again into his face, he reached for her arm, tearing away the cuff of her blouse.

Infuriated by her ripped sleeve, she dropped the bottle to grasp his hand. Using the fingers she had used to squeeze cow utters for years, she squeezed his hand with the strength only a milkmaid obtained. Hearing the bones of his fingers break, she smiled sadistically. Releasing his hand, she eyed her work in admiration; the fingers bent and twisted in the direction she desired. Lifting the broken bottle from the ground, she lined it with the joint of his wrist, outlining the area she would plunge it through.

Looking at her through a bloody blackened eye, Ludo attempted to scream as he realized her intentions. Feeling him squirm more, Sophie's gaze turned to his face. Grinning at him, she struck the shards into his wrist. Hacking repeatedly into the joint, her eyes blazed in rage. She felt a wave of relief flood over her. _This was the true Sophie._

Finishing the amputation, she lifted up the appendage and brought it to the face of her hostage, straddling his waist. She waved it tauntingly as she cast him a sadistic smile. Muffling out his screams, she shoved his own hand down his throat, choking him. Watching the vomit coat his hand, she dove deeper, feeling his body squirm under her. His mouth erratically bit down on his hand as he choked himself, but she persisted, basking in his suffering. With a last tremor, his eyes glazed over as death became him.

Removing the hand from his mouth, she wiped the blood and vomit across his lapels and stood. Turning around she looked for her next victim. He had disappeared, along with the gun. Following the trail of blood, she looked to the front of her cart. The trembling barrel of the gun peaked out from behind a corner. With a roll of her eyes, Sophie lifted his fallen comrades Luger from his belt. Snapping off the safety, she approached from the other side of the cart, all the while, holding Ludo's hand.

Peeking from behind, she aimed at his bloody hand again. She thought of how foolish he turned out to be. Perhaps it had been the drinking or the situation that had clouded his mind from thinking of taking a chance to shoot her while she was on her tirade. Squeezing the trigger for the first time, her body shook with the force of the shot.

_Bang! _

Sophie watched as the gun fell from his wounded hand. A finger rolled in her direction as she casually strolled to his fallen figure. She was ecstatic; the endorphins had really kicked in after the rush of her first shot. Alfons collapsed to his knees in defeat. Standing over him, Sophie smirked in triumph. Casting away the gun, she saw as his eyes lit up in hope. Delving into her pocket, she reached for her knife. She would take care of him personally.

Shoving his comrade's hand down his throat, Sophie began to stab him anywhere she could get her knife into. After what seemed like an eternity, Sophie rose from the S.S. Officer, and cast off the hand, not noticing that despite all she had done with it, a piece of cloth from her sleeve had looped around the mangled pointer finger of it.

Casually walking to the back as though nothing had happened, Sophie placed the rations and crates back to their original places. Deciding to leave the bodies as they were, Sophie went to the front of the cart and climbed into her seat. She clucked the roof of her mouth quickly; on cue the stallion trotted forward. As they moved onward, Gaston's hooves sunk into the skull of the man previously known as Alfons Eberhardt.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The munching sound of the Jew Hunter's mouth drew Sophie out of her memories. Looking up, Sophie sighed in both relief and frustration. Colonel Hans Landa had finally arrived and had begun to chow down on his strudel.

Smiling in appreciation, he looked up from Dubois' desk. Waving to her with a forked hand, he greeted her in French. "Ah my dear Sophie, it is wonderful to see you enter the world of the living!"

Rubbing her eyes, Sophie realized at some point she had fallen asleep. Noticing the hem of her skirt had risen in her sleep, she uncomfortably pulled it down. As she corrected herself, the Colonel sent her a subtle glare for doing so. He had such a nice view.

Taking another bite from his delicious strudel, he bowed his head in satisfaction as he savored the taste. The thought of asking for the recipe crossed his mind as he chewed on the pastry; it was very reminiscent of the beloved Austrian cuisine he grew up on, but held a French twist to it.

Looking up from it he noticed Sophie shuffle around on her cot, catching her eye for a moment, he sent a crème-covered smile to her. Turning away from him in frustration, Sophie faced the wall avoiding his gaze.

Pushing his seat back, the Colonel rose from the desk, bringing his fork and pastry with him. Taking a chair situated in front of the desk, he turned it to face her and took his seat, the leather of his duster squeaked against the wood as he made himself comfortable.

The silence was endearing as Sophie attempted to ignore his gaze. Unfazed by her failure to acknowledge him, he studied her. He found the blood on her collar unusually attractive; it suited both her looks and her personality. The contrast between her flawless face, silky unruly hair, and bloodstained clothing was perfect for her. He couldn't imagine her ever being dolled up for an occasion such as a film premier, but that didn't stop his imagination. He smirked at the thought of her dressed in the latest fashion, wearing a pink dress that hugged her curves along with rouge lipstick. Chuckling at the thought of the day that would happen, he noticed her back stiffen.

Taking the opportunity to get a further reaction from her, he coughed slightly, dipping his bare finger in the crème. Not wishing for Dubois to eavesdrop on their conversation through his office door, he addressed Sophie in English.

"Now tell me," he licked the crème from his fingertips, "what will be your last words?" She remained still, eyes transfixed on the wall. His eyebrows rose in curiosity as he questioned her. "Viva la France? Down with Hitler?" He paused as a grin returned to his face, "Or fuck you Landa?"

Not suspecting him to use such language around her, Sophie's head snapped to the side, her gaze sharpened.

_Damn it_, she thought,_ he said that to get my attention._

Attempting to hide her surprise, she smoothly masked it with a bitter response. "I'm starting to think of the latter the most suitable choice." She folded her arms across her chest, accentuating her bust, the Colonel's gaze lingered appreciatively, his smile ever-present.

Chuckling at her response he replied, "Now what have I ever done to you to earn such malevolence?"

Rolling her eyes at him indignantly, she responded snappily. "Well besides murdering my best friend's family, destroying my home, and ruining my family's lives, I'd say you haven't done a thing." Her voice dripped with its typical sarcasm.

His face remained unfazed by the bitterness of her words, he replied matter-of-factly. "Ah but did you notice I did not execute your beloved Shoshanna?"

Sophie's eyes bulged as he spoke of the question she'd been speculating on for so long. Trying to seem as though it meant nothing to her, she shifted her gaze to the floor, all the while subliminally leaning her body invitingly to his question.

Smirking at her response, he picked up his fork once more and took another bite from his strudel, prolonging an answer. He closed his eyes as he allowed his senses to be taken by the pastry. Hearing the familiar crunching once more, Sophie infuriatingly turned herself to him, situating herself directly in front of him. Her gaze held strong through the bars as she glared at his jaw.

_He's as insolent as the first time I laid my eyes on him. _

Finishing with his bite, he swallowed the strudel in appreciation. Opening his eyes he smirked at seeing he had her full attention. He glimpsed to her cuffed hands and noticed they grasped the cots blanket with vigor; her knuckles turned white in anticipation.

A moment of silence passed between the two, neither wishing to instigate the conversation.

Sighing in defeat, Sophie leaned forward and questioned the Jew Hunter. "Why didn't you shoot Shoshanna?" Expecting an answer, she was surprised to find him smirking smugly at her. He raised his finger to her, reminiscent of a father reprimanding his daughter, and answered sweetly.

"That is for me to know-" he pointed to himself. "And for you-" his finger passed through the bars and lightly touched the tip of Sophie's nose. She flinched in surprise, but didn't draw back. Smiling at her reaction, he finished in a sickly sweet voice, "to never find out." His hand returned to his side, his finger tingled at the sensation of touching her smooth skin.

Huffing in frustration, Sophie hung her head between her legs. He was too much for her. No matter how many questions she asked, he would always remain a mystery. At least she was smart enough to know when it was a lost cause.

Keeping her head between her legs, she sighed exasperatedly. Not expecting an answer, she posed a question that had been itching at her. "Why do you find me so appealing?"

Straightening his back, Landa brushed some lint from his lapels. He casually replied. "Your actions are selfless. You went against all odds to save your friend." He directed his gaze to her. "That's admirable." He replied honestly.

Sophie shifted uncomfortably; she had not been expecting that. The cot squeaked awkwardly under her weight, before she was given the opportunity to respond, the sound of a door creaking open drew the two from their thoughts.

The Colonel shifted his head to the office door, smiling invitingly to Dubois, despite being very disappointed that he would never know what her response would be. Dubois shuffled his feet in the doorway as he gave the two an uncomfortable "ahem," hoping he had not been interrupting. Both Sophie's and Landa's gazes followed Chief Dubois as he approached Col. Landa, Dubois brows furrowed in worry. Placing his strudel back on the table, the Colonel gave the man his full attention.

Tweaking his mustache in anxiety, the Chief came to Sophie's defense. Stumbling over his words, he attempted to keep his composure as the Jew Hunter's gaze grew unwavering. Having not known what they were speaking of in English, he spoke in desperation to the Colonel in French.

"I- ah-I assure you that Mademoiselle LaPadite is harmless." He rubbed his hands together. "A-As the American's may say, she has more bark than her bite." He joked, stifling his snickers behind a plump hand, overcoming his fear.

Chuckling along with him, Landa corrected him offhandedly. "If that were the case, the Third Reich may have not lost three men to her blade."

Dubois' snickers immediately stifled. His eyes widened in realization of what Sophie had done. Lowering his voice, he lent towards the Jew Hunter. Hushing his voice so Sophie could not overhear, he questioned the Colonel. "How long do you plan to hold her?" His brows furrowed in anxiety.

The Jew Hunter smirked knowingly. Raising his voice, he spoke, averting his gaze directly to Sophie.

"Oh, we're not going to hold her. We're going to hang her."


	5. Bidding Adieu

Oh what the hell! Despite being three reviews short of my goal, I've decided to reward my reviewers with the latest chapter of Sophie's Choice. This chapter's pretty brief for my standards, but it was originally apart of chapter four, I just couldn't let a perfectly good cliffhanger go to waste.

There's more of Landa's typical strangeness in this chapter that I'm sure a lot of you will appreciate. *among other things* I placed quite a bit of foreshadowing in this chapter that I'm sure you'll appreciate. After all, Landa seems to be the kind of man who always has a plan…

I'll be more lenient with my review requests, despite the fact that I've received over 300 hits on the last chapter alone. From this point on, there will be a **mandatory requirement for 5 reviews **for every chapter before I post the next.

For every chapter in which I get more than 5 reviews, you'll be rewarded with an Inglourious Basterds fun fact! So for the seven reviewers I've heard from, here you go!

**FUN FACT:**Eli Roth, Quentin Tarantino, and Christoph Waltz and are aware of slash fiction. They found out about it on Livejournal and freaked. Eli's reaction: "Oh come on! Donnie's totally a top." Tarantino: "No f*ckin' way Donnie's a catcher!" Waltz: *Gasp*

Someone even did a video involving Hitler's reaction, just do a search for it on youtube.

_There'll be more from where that comes from if I get more reviews! _

**Disclaimer: **Characters and situations of Inglourious Basterds are the property of Quentin Tarantino. Sophie's mine. Don't sue me.

Enjoy and Review!

* * *

**Bidding Adieu**

* * *

"How long do you plan to hold her?" Dubois' brows furrowed in anxiety.

The Jew Hunter smirked knowingly. Raising his voice, he spoke, averting his gaze directly to Sophie.

"Oh, we're not going to hold her. We're going to hang her."

Both Sophie's and Dubois' backs stiffened. Knowing her fate had been inevitable still did not change Sophie's reaction. For her, hearing the words was a fate far worse than death; if she were to die, she'd call the shots. But she had no choice now; she was to be hanged by the Nazis for her crimes.

Her eyes widened at the thought of all the things she would never do. She would never get a chance to avenge nor reunite with Shoshanna. She would never comprehend the enigma known as Hans Landa. And she would never see Paris.

_He would've never followed through with taking me there. _Sophie thought with a sigh. Realizing she had been hoping the Jew Hunter would follow through with his comment from earlier that day, Sophie shook herself. _No, I'd rather be dead! _

Knowing that the Colonel's word was final, Dubois' shoulders slumped in defeat. He would lose the closest thing he had to a daughter by dawn.

The earsplitting ring of the telephone cut the intensity of the room like the blade of a knife. Rising from his chair, the Colonel stood and walked to the side of the desk. Leaning casually on the edge, he reached for the phone and brought it to his ear. Smiling he greeted enthusiastically. _"Gutten Tag!" _

His smile remained unwavering as he listened to the line, casually glancing to Sophie; he winked at her as he nodded. Both Sophie and Dubois remained on edge as he went about his business as though he were chatting up an old friend.

At one point in the conversation, Sophie caught the Colonel murmuring in French, but she only caught the last few words: _"…be there at dawn." _

Puzzled as to what he was speaking of, Sophie listened harder. But his voice was droned out by the infernal ticking of the clock. Cursing once more at the timepiece, Sophie broke the intensity of the room by heaving a deep sigh. Looking to her once more, Landa's eyes widened in excitement as he exclaimed _"Wunderbar!"_ into the receiver. Nodding in agreement, he resumed speaking in French, "_Oui_, be here by then… no thank_ you_!" He squealed childishly as he hung up.

The whole situation reminded Sophie of the interrogation he held at her home. She wondered if he always acted so bizarrely.

Looking to his audience, Landa smiled seeing Dubois dumbfounded look. Changing to a more serious tone, Landa straightened himself and looked to Sophie, resuming his English. "I regretfully must inform you, that duty has called me away from your sentencing."

"Such a pity." Sophie commented sarcastically, eyes half lidded. She was slowly accepting her unfortunate fate.

"Yes, such a shame." He spoke slowly, as he regarded her. Looking into his eyes, Sophie noticed the familiar hint of excitement within his hazel depths. He was up to something.

Reaching across the desk, Landa picked up his fork and scooped up the remnants of his strudel. Shifting his gaze to Sophie, he brought the last of the pastry to his mouth and bit into it. Chewing in delight, he savored his last moments with both Sophie and the strudel. Swallowing, he wished for another glass of her delicious milk, but alas, there was none to be found. Setting the fork to his plate, he crossed the threshold of the room, ignoring Dubois' look of utter shock. As he had been enjoying himself, Sophie had subconsciously been leaning forward, till her temple pressed against the cold bars. Her eyes had widened once more at the thought of her eminent death. _It was too soon._

Bending himself to her level, Landa studied her reaction. He had not been expecting this reaction from her, but then again he didn't expect her to laugh as he pushed his Luger to her temple earlier. She surely must have known what would become of her. It had not been the first time he had seen the reaction of someone learning their fate, hell he had seen it hours ago in the eyes of her father!

Grasping a bar in one hand, he reached through the bars and tipped Sophie's chin up. Looking directly into her eyes, he saw a similar look of despair within her depths as he had seen previously that day.

Numb to his touch, Sophie was a shell compared to the strong independent woman Landa had first encountered. Ignoring the feeling of Dubois' gaze upon them, Landa addressed Sophie in English as though she were the only one there.

"Sophie… " He gave a halfhearted smirk. "This will unfortunately be our last meeting." She seemed to have been looking right through him. Her hollow gaze startled him, though he showed no outward affect. Hoping to rekindle the spark in the woman he'd grown fond of, he pressed his forehead to the bars, studying her glossy hazel eyes for any reaction.

"So dear Sophie, I bid you adieu." And with that, he leaned forward and kissed her.

The kiss felt like venom to Sophie's lips. It had been the last thing Sophie would have ever expected from the Jew Hunter. Her eyes widened in shock, as she felt the pressure of his lips. Landa's lips were unexpectedly soft and a bit chapped. There was an air of fragility to the kiss, as though he were afraid to break her; perhaps due to the fact that it would be their last. The Jew Hunter had taken Sophie's first kiss without force, and as quickly as it came it was gone.

Looking to the Jew Hunter in a shocked daze, Sophie watched as a goofy grin spread across his face.

It had been more than a simple peck, and Sophie knew it. Snapping from her daze, Sophie finally comprehended what he had just done. _How dare he!_

Grinning at her reaction, Landa pulled away from her form, examining the effect he had on her. A thousand thoughts passed through her mind in that moment of surprise. Why should she care what he did to her? She was going to die in a manner of hours anyway.

Turning from her, Landa faced Dubois and smirked in delight. Picking up his cap from the desk, he placed it atop his head and tipped it to the chief. Lifting his attaché case from the floor by the desk, he crossed the room, approaching the door leading to the outside world.

In that moment, a spark of rage rekindled from within Sophie. Refusing to allow such an atrocity to pass by without notice, she gathered her bearings and called to Landa's back.

"Landa! You son of a bitch!" Slowly turning to her with a smile, he opened his arms in a welcoming manner, gesturing for her to continue. Ignoring the memory of the pressure of his lips, Sophie screamed. "Should we ever meet again, I'll kill you!" She rattled the bars for emphasis as her eyes blazed with a newfound fire.

Taking a step closer, Landa replied jovially. "Unfortunately my dear, such an act would have already been committed by the time we meet again." His smile widened as he humored her.

Rather than giving him the upper hand, she corrected herself. "See you in hell."

Smiling to her for perhaps the last time, the Colonel tipped his hat and took his leave. With a swish of his trench coat, the Jew Hunter was gone, leaving Sophie to her thoughts once more.

_Good riddance._


	6. Sneak Peek

Sorry for the long update, but I come bearing bad news. This is not chapter six.

Someone recently stole my USB device, and I've lost everything I've written for the last six months. I'm attempting to recover some of my documents from my computer, but I doubt it'll retrieve any.

Both chapters six and seven were completed, but I won't start rewriting till I know it is impossible to recover my lost documents. So there may be a wait till they're posted.

Should anyone whose computer-savvy like to help me find my lost documents, please message me on this site, any help would be much obliged. (Which means faster updates)

In the meantime, I'll tide you over with a sneak peak of what's to come in chapter six.

~*~

* * *

**Goodbye Cruel World**

* * *

~*~

..........Sophie is confronted by one of her victim's siblings.

....................Awaiting her fate, she is introduced to an Inspector Chevalier.

*

~Noticing a twinkle in his eye, Sophie couldn't help but think he knew something she didn't~

~*~

..........Chief Dubois bids Sophie adieu in the best way he can.

....................Sophie takes her frustration out on a German soldier.

*

~The noose swayed ominously in the breeze~

~*~

..........She wouldn't give the Jew Hunter the satisfaction.

....................Grabbing the noose, she placed fate in her own hands.

*

"Today is a glorious day to die!"

~*~


	7. Author's Note

Gutten tag readers! I would just really like to thank everyone's incredible support for _Sophie's Choice!_

I've been rather busy recently with college, preparing for finals, and dating.

Updates won't be immediate, since I now have another thing to worry about. _*I'll be cosplaying with my boyfriend at Sakuracon as Shoshanna and the Bear Jew.* _- In fact I'm going shopping for the costume today. You have no idea how hard this is going to be! I have to install extensions to both my hair and the BF's. -_-;

Whenever I have free time, I'll update this story, I have quite a few thoughts in mind as to where the plot's heading, and I'm sure you'll like it. _*Which may include a small Austrian vacation with the Jew Hunter.* _- Which reminds me…

A big congratulation to Christoph Waltz for winning Best Support Actor!

You have no idea how pleased I was to hear that! I looked like a total freak on my couch clapping madly to my television. XD

Updates will be happening next week, so no worries.

*Just an FYI- I will be rationing out my time for this story now, since I have a never-ending _LOST_ story in mind. Much unlike Sophie, this character will be very androgynous.*

Once again, thanks for your support!


	8. Author's Note 2

To my wonderful readers, thank you so much for your patience and support, an author couldn't ask for more. I have great news for you! Sophie's Choice has been on hiatus for far too long. This time I plan to hold steady and write to the end. The story will be resuming within the next couple of weeks, I just have to gather my bearings and find my muse. (Christoph Waltz)

Once again, thank you for your support!


End file.
